Moonshadow: A History Finally Undone
This Archive doesn’t deal directly with the 3rd or 4th Eras. In fact, the Arcanex isn’t even sure when this document was entered into the Moonshadow Archive. The time stamp says this was written in 5E 10941, but we’re sure this was a transcription error... we think. - Sage Havard Amell, of the TALOS Arcanex Part I stream designation – “Tamriel Actual” approval registered: Temple Zero Imperix / Series PADHOME shunted through Arcanex sub-forum TALOS-1 10,000 YEARS SINCE THE AMARANTH In the Broken Dream, left behind by Memory and Time, there remained a enclave of Dunmer who loved the Dream too much to move on. They formed a city, named AE AURBEX, on the moon of Masser. As the Dunmer of AE AURBEX sat and watched Nirn - the Broken World they came from, Aryon Drethan, the immortal Nerevarine, went to the plane of Moonshadow to confer with his Daedric Patron. Once the most beautiful place in the Aurbis, Moonshadow had been sundered by the Breaking of the Dream and now was dark with longing for What Was and Will Never Be. Azura herself was the only Daedric Prince to survive the Amaranth, but its impact on the Daedric Prince of Dusk and Dawn was intense. Once a woman crowned with flowers, and attired in gossamer white robes, Azura had fallen into despair when most of her Dunmer left with the Amaranth. As the Nerevarine approached silently, Azura acknowledged Aryon with a voice laden with grief. “What say you, my champion?” Aryon inclined his head. “My lady, I am here to ask why you still live. Most of your people have left, and Nirn is broken, never to be reformed. It is unlikely you will return to your former position of power.” “They haven’t forgotten me.” Azura raved. “My people still remember me.” “They remember Nirn.” Aryon corrected. “They remember Memory. They remember the Sons and Daughters of Talos and Y’ffre who held the White-Gold Tower until Landfall, and Vidar, the last Stormblade, who sacrificed himself to keep the Wheel Turning. But they have forgotten you.” Azura broke into a fresh torrent of tears. “So say you, Father of the Dragon.” Aryon raised an eyebrow. “My Lady?” In between sobs, Azura gasped. “You were the father of Talos the Archmage, and watched as he fell in love with Y’ffre, the Lady of Falinesti. You formed their union, after the First Towerfall. I knew their fate and their forefathers.” Aryon almost staggered, his mind reeling. Darius – my son? Azura continued to rave. “When you saw the Champion of the North, the Webspinner put a spell on you, and you left my sight for a time. When you returned, the Champion was heavy with child. She gave birth to a dark-haired boy, his eyes the color of the sky, his will crackling like lightning, and his soul that of a dragon.” Aryon recovered from his shock. “My lady – why didn’t you tell me?!’ Azura laughed, crazed. “I needed you – if you had known, you would have left my service forever, Nerevar, and I would be dead. Besides, I had plans for him – which you interrupted!” Aryon had a realization – He was never a true champion of Azura, only a pawn the Prince used in her plans on Tamriel. But the Nerevarine shoved that thought aside and looked at Azura pointedly. “what plans did you have for my son?!” Azura laughed some more. “Your son was supposed to die during the First Towerfall. With your reappearance, the Dunmer began to turn away from me, and the rest of the Tribunal. They preferred you, their messiah that freed them from Mad Almalexia and Sotha Sil, to us, the three Daedra who had lead them to Morrowind through the prophet Veloth. So, I separated your son from the person he loved the most and planned for you to find his body when he died from his grief. Then I planned to make it known that he was your son and that I had killed him. The Emperor, son of the Nerevarine, killed by Azura…” The Prince of Dusk and Dawn broke into another fit of laughter. Aryon stared at Azura, in utter shock and betrayal. His patron had plotted to kill his own son and end Tamriel’s best chance at peace all for her vanity. The feeling of betrayal brought back a memory. Indoril Nerevar, scion of the Chimer, lies dead at Red Mountain, betrayed by the Tribunal… A dark rage rose up in Aryon, and he drew Trueflame. The Nerevarine recited Vivec’s Scripture of Love with a quiet fury. “Later, and by that I mean much, much later, my reign will be seen as an act of the highest love, which is a return from the astral destiny and the marriages between…” Azura noted this shift in temperament, and looked truly afraid, for the first time in an eternity. “My champion… you can’t kill a god.” “I have killed two.” Aryon proclaimed, in an ominous tone. “Both of them were liars and cheaters, just like you. The only god I truly loved was Vehk, who by his nature was a liar and cheater. When she spoke the truth, he meant it.” Then the Nerevarine swung Trueflame in a low arc, aiming for Azura’s neck. The Daedric Prince, weakened by the exodus of her worshippers, couldn’t stop the blade from biting through her once-beautiful visage, and her once-immortal soul. So, the last Daedric Prince died at the hand of her immortal champion. With Azura’s death, Moonshadow began to collapse. Aryon turned around and began to leave before he saw a glimmer. There, on the ground was a softly glowing blue-green crystal – a Shard of Memory. Azura must have kept it, Aryon realized. The Nerevarine knew that lingering was unwise, but the feeling the Shard radiated was so familiar, it made Aryon homesick for What Was and Will Never Be. So, he picked it up, and was thrown back to the Fifth Era. ---- The throne room of the White-Gold Tower was packed. The Second Great War had come to an end, with the 5th Empire victorious. People from every corner of Tamriel had come to watch the official reunification of the Empire. Finally, a hush fell on the room as the Emperor and Empress entered the hall, followed by their son and daughter, both decorated Legates in the Second Great War. The rulers of Skyrim and High Rock stepped forward, being the oldest provinces in the Empire. The High King of Skyrim started, seeing that the Emperor was a Nord. “High King Torsten Stormcloak pledges his fealty to the Emperor Darius the Second and Empress Arabelle the First. Long may they live.” King Cousland of High Rock repeated the same pledge, then they stepped back. Next was Queen Camoran of Valenwood, swept to power by the Rebellion of 4E 235, as the Bosmer revolted against the Thalmor to join the Empire. “Queen Indrel Camoran pledges her fealty to the Emperor Darius the Second and Empress Arabelle the First. Long may they live.” She stepped back as the Queen of Alinor and the Mane of Elsweyr stepped forward. Both were the final bastions of the Aldmeri Dominion, and utterly crushed in the Second Great War. They both pledged their fealty and stepped back. Black Marsh had already pledged its fealty a few days before, as an Argonian messenger had informed the Emperor and Empress. Now, it was up to Morrowind. Aryon Drethan, Nerevarine and King of Morrowind, stepped forward. “King Aryon Drethan, bearer of Moon-and-Star and savior of Morrowind, pledges his fealty to the Emperor Darius the Second and Empress Arabelle the First. Long may they live, and wisely may they rule.” Aryon smiled as the Emperor and Empress smiled back at him. Finally, Tamriel was at peace. ---- Aryon came to in the ruins of White-Gold on the surface of Nirn - the Broken World, holding the Shard of Memory. An utterly bittersweet feeling overtook the Nerevarine, as he realized the Shard he held was the last refuge of the world Aryon had knew and loved. Then Aryon looked at the surface of Masser, and the last Dunmer city, AE AURBEX, was gone. For the first time since his birth in the 3rd Era, Aryon realized that he was truly alone. A single tear slid down the Nerevarine’s face, as a sense of abject loneliness descended upon him. Another tear followed, and soon, the Nerevarine was sobbing, mourning for the loss of Tamriel, Mundus, and the Aurbis. He wept for the loss of the Dunmer, who had finally jumped ahead of the Aurbis and escaped their doom. He wept for the loss of the Empires, which rose again and again to rule Tamriel, and never prevented its doom. He wept for all that the Dream lost, and for the Heroes, whose actions only sped up the death of the Dream. After Aryon could cry no more, he was faced with an immense silence. The Nerevarine looked over at the Shard of Memory and picked it up, accepting the strength it offered for a time. The Nerevarine closed his eyes and remembered an unwritten sermon Vivec had given him. “"Go here: world without wheel, charting zero deaths, and echoes singing," Seht said, until all of it was done, and in the center was anything whatever…” Aryon softly chanted as he held the Shard. Then he knew. He knew what must be done. Aryon put the Shard in a pocket sewn into the lining of his battered Imperial armor and set off for the center of Nirn - the Broken World. The Nerevarine walked the Wheel for 8 days and nights, until he reached the center. There, before Aryon and across an abyss, floated the Memory of Ald-Anu the Dreamer. It was a thing of tarnished beauty, formed of crystallized purple tragedy, violet grief, and dark loss. It was suspended in a contraption of gears, and metal devices in designs the Nerevarine had never seen before. Aryon approached and pulled a lever next to the abyss, which stopped the gears and formed a bridge to the Memory. Aryon crossed and stood in front of Ald-Anu's Memory, observing his own face reflected in its facets. In some, Aryon resembled a monster, in others, a ruthless warrior. The Nerevarine seized Ald-Anu’s Memory and threw it into the abyss. After what seemed like an eternity, Aryon heard it shatter. The scream of a mother grieving for her child and the shout of a war-crazed warrior echoed out of the abyss for a moment, before they fell silent. Aryon then pulled out the Shard of Memory he had rescued from Moonshadow and observed its facets. In this Shard, Aryon saw himself as a hero, king, and perhaps best of all, a common man. Love, mercy, hope, and bravery coursed through his veins as the Nerevarine held the shard. Aryon then closed his eyes and summoned everything he remembered of Tamriel, pouring his own memory into the Shard. He remembered the ashlands of Morrowind, the mountains of Skyrim, the Grahtwood of Valenwood, the Heartlands of Cyrodiil, the swamps of Black Marsh, the castles of High Rock, the deserts of Hammerfell, and the islands of Alinor. Then he remembered the best of all the races of Tamriel he had met – a Altmer Legionnaire, a Bosmer Empress, a Dunmer Queen, a Breton Wizard, a Redguard Merchant, a Orsimer Chief, a Khajiiti thief, an Argonian mage, an Imperial Knight, and best of all… His own son. Darius Stormblade II, the Nord Dragonborn, Archmage of Winterhold and the son of the Nerevarine. The Nord who had risked everything to kill Alduin, Harkon, and Miraak. The Nord who had brought down the Mede Empire, and built his own atop its ruins, all to bring peace to Tamriel. And who could forget Arabelle Dewleaf, the Bosmer who had put up with Darius and eventually fallen in love with the Dragonborn? When Aryon opened his eyes, the Shard had almost quintupled in size, now slightly bigger than the Memory Aryon had hurled into the Abyss. He placed the Shard into the contraption of gears and locked it in place. A lever then shimmered into existence next to the Nerevarine, along with a holographic message asking one thing. RESET? Aryon smiled and pulled the lever. YES. The gears began to turn, and the Shard floated down within Aryon’s reach. The Nerevarine looked puzzled, then he realized. The Memory Aryon had made from the Shard was of a Aurbis through his own eyes, so the Shard needed its missing piece. Aryon smiled and nodded, a few tears running down his face. The Nerevarine placed his hand on the facets of Memory and opened his soul, allowing himself to be absorbed into the Shard. Aryon’s body, armor, and weapons dissolved into a thousand splinters of light, which flowed into the Shard. The gears turned faster, as the Wheel of Aurbis stopped turning. A wave of magic swept out of the Shard, wiping clean the Aurbis, and preparing it for a new Dream. Part II 577215664 reconstitution: CONFIRMED Temporal Contradictions: NULL stream designation – “Tamriel Infinite” approval registered: Temple Zero Imperix / Series PADHOME shunted through Arcanex sub-forum TALOS-1 3E 51, CITY OF MOURNHOLD “Queen Barenziah! Somebody wants to see you!” A Dunmer Courtier called. “Can it wait?” Barenziah called back, busy with paperwork. “It’s Aryon Drethan, of Redoran!” Barenziah’s eyes widened. She had not heard that name since 3E 30, when… “Send him in!” Barenziah called. Through the door walked Aryon Drethan, with the imperious stride of a Septim. Which was accurate, given who his father was. Barenziah shoved the thought aside and looked at Aryon. “What did you need, serjo Drethan?” Aryon raised his eyebrow. “I thought you summoned me, your majesty?” Oh, that matter. Barenziah quickly collected herself and gestured for Aryon to sit down. “Do you want something to drink?” “Canis Root Tea, your majesty... If you have it.” Aryon inclined his head. Barenziah couldn’t help but notice that Aryon’s ears were set lower than most Dunmer ears, and the point was unusually subtle. Shaking that chain of thoughts, Barenziah retrieved a box of Canis Root Tea, giving a bottle to Aryon and taking one for herself. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Aryon raised his eyebrow and gestured for Barenziah to continue – exactly in the fashion Aryon’s father would do while listening to Barenziah. The Dunmeri Queen had to curb her grin before she continued. “Aryon, do you know who your father is?” “Councilor Drethan of Redoran, of course.” Aryon rattled off the name of the Dunmeri Noble who had agreed to take Aryon and raise him as his own son. Barenziah smiled, sadly. “Actually, Councilor Drethan is not your father.” Barenziah drank, gathering her strength. “And Lady Drethan isn’t your mother either – I am.” Aryon widened his eyes in shock. "But, I thought-" “Your existence was scandalous to both your father and I. So, we made a deal – If I sent you to a Dunmeri family, and kept your ancestry a secret, your father agreed to keep you alive.” Barenziah took another drink. “But, who is-” Aryon tried to ask. “He was the best General of Men alive, and the founder of an Empire. Your father is Tiber Septim, the Dragonborn Emperor.” Barenziah sighed, finally relieved of the burden of keeping Aryon’s secret. Aryon’s mouth opened in shock. The legendary conqueror of Tamriel… his father? “Dragonborn?” Aryon asked, in awe. “Yes, Dragonborn, and master of the Thu’um.” Dragonborn… For a split second, Aryon remembered. He remembered the Broken World, and the Shard. He remembered the Tamriel that was, and now will ever be. “Your majest- Mother?” Aryon asked. “Can I be left alone for a minute?” “Of course, Aryon.” Barenziah warmly smiled and took her leave. When she left, Aryon began laughing. He laughed until fresh tears began to stream down his face, and then he was sobbing with relief. No longer would Aryon have to face the inevitable death of the Dream – Tamriel was free. This was Nu-Mantia. Liberty. Aryon strode to the balcony attached to the room. It overlooked the Grand Bazaar, where people of all races were mingling and selling goods. Aryon closed his eyes, and sent his senses out into the Aurbis, searching for something. He found it – a thread of love linking the cities of Windhelm and Falinesti. The souls at either end would not manifest for another Era, but what the thread told Aryon was enough – one of those souls would be his own son. Aryon burst out laughing in relief again. Then he shouted his next words loud enough for all Mournhold to hear. “So it is, and may it ever Be! NU-MANTIA AE TAM-RIELLE AE NIRN AE MUNDEX AE AURBEX!” Category:Stories Category:Moonshadow Canon